A Promise Under Starlight
by ChoCedric
Summary: A tender moment of friendship between the trio at the end of Goblet of Fire. After everything that's happened, Ron and Hermione know exactly what Harry needs to help him let go of his grief and guilt.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

Author's Note: This story was inspired by a fic called The Mourners on the Step. If you want to read it to see where I got the idea from, it's on my "favorite stories" list, or, of course, you can just search for it. That fic is of a sweet moment between Ron and Hermione during the final battle after seeing Fred's body. In that fic, there was no dialogue, but it was a wonderful scene - they communicated to each other just by gestures alone. In this fic, that's what I tried to do. This was an exercise for me not to write dialogue, and it's doubly hard because I am a blind person and therefore cannot see the gestures people make to each other. So please, please review and let me know how I did. I'm more eager for feedback than ever, because this was a real challenge! Thank you so, so much to the author of The Mourners on the Step for inspiring me with your beautiful writing!

A Promise Under Starlight

By: ChoCedric

The stars were twinkling in the night sky, the moon bathing it in a picturesque glow which made the evening look truly beautiful. The lake was calm; not even the giant squid was moving. There were no clouds, no raindrops, not a thing to disturb the scene.

However, there was something that contrasted completely with the night, and that was the fourteen-year-old boy sitting at the lake's edge, knees tucked beneath him and a look of complete despair on his face. There were bags beneath his eyes - he had not slept well in the past week, and it showed. The emotions churning inside him would remind one of a fierce ocean, and his emerald eyes, instead of sparkling with joy, were filled with unspeakable regret and sorrow.

As Harry James Potter continued to gaze at the lake's surface, the same images that had been plaguing him for the last week swam through his mind yet again, now being joined by the words of Albus Dumbledore at the Leaving Feast which he had just escaped moments before. The solemn voices of the students as they murmured Cedric's name, the tears streaming down Cho Chang's cheeks, more tears that some of the teachers, including Pomona Sprout, were shedding, the stricken looks of the Hufflepuffs as they sat at their table without their role model ... those were the most recent images, which made grief and guilt bubble inside him. But no, those were not the only images that haunted him. As he tried to fight them off, they only burned brighter to the backs of his eyelids: Cedric's sightless eyes as he lay on the ground, unmoving ... Voldemort slithering out of the cauldron ... what seemed like a thousand hooded Death Eaters taunting him as pain from the Cruciatus Curse ripped through his body ... his parents' loving smiles as they came out of Voldemort's wand, their voices as they told him to hold on, to be strong, to listen to them as they told him what to do ... the old Muggle man which had been murdered last summer, looking at him with pride ... Bertha Jorkins, looking at him as if she knew exactly what he was feeling ... Cedric, telling him, pleading with him to take his body back to his loved ones so at least they could have closure. ... Pandemonium as he arrived back, clutching Cedric's body to him as though it were the only thing in the world ... screams, sobs of frantic students ... Mad-Eye, or who he thought was Mad-Eye, saying, "It's okay, sonny ... it's okay ... it's over now ... come with me ..."

Harry felt a headache building behind his eyes as he continued to try to chase the images away. But the more he tried the more they haunted him.

More despair gripped at him, and his breath hitched in his throat as he remembered yet another image from just moments ago: Dumbledore, telling the students about his courage, his bravery, and everyone murmuring "Harry Potter" just like they had murmured "Cedric Diggory." Why? Harry thought miserably as he placed his hands over his eyes. Why did Dumbledore say I was brave when I did what any decent human being would do? He knew for a fact that even if Cedric's ghost hadn't asked him to bring his body back, he would have done so without a second thought. He wouldn't have left him there, alone, where the people who had loved him couldn't at least say one last goodbye. God, Cedric hadn't deserved to die like that, helpless, shocked, fearful, vulnerable. The look on the older teen's face had seared a hole through Harry's heart; no one deserved to look that afraid. Cedric ... he had so much to live for. Friends, a girlfriend, a family ... and Harry, even though he had not cast the spell that killed him, felt as though he had. The only reason Cedric had died was because Voldemort wanted Harry, and Cedric was standing in the way.

And at that moment, Harry didn't feel like a brave, heroic wizard. He felt like a tiny child who wanted to curl up and die himself. Never had he missed his cupboard at the Dursleys before, but now, he felt an incredible stab of longing for it. He didn't want to be Harry Potter, Savior of the damn Wizarding World. As much as he'd hated being nothing but a "freak" at the Dursleys, he'd rather be that than the one person everyone relied on to kill their Dark Lord for them and to save the life of every wizard and Muggle that roamed the Earth.

And he knew that was exactly what people thought of him. That had become extremely apparent just this afternoon, when he'd been walking along the hallways, and he'd stumbled upon two Hufflepuffs. One of them, a girl, was crying, and the other, an older boy, was trying to comfort her. As soon as he heard the name "Potter," come from the girl's mouth in a sob, he knew they were talking about him. Keeping himself hidden, he couldn't help but listen to their conversation.

As her companion held her close, the girl wailed, her voice rising to an anguished scream, asking why Harry hadn't done anything to save Cedric's life. After all, if he had killed Voldemort at just one year of age, then why, oh why, hadn't he raised his little wand and blasted Cedric out of the way? Why had Harry lived and Cedric died, when Cedric was older, more experienced? Was he, Harry Potter, the girl had screamed, too damn selfish to save her best friend Cedric, the best bloody person in the school, in her opinion?

Those words had acted like the strongest bludgeoning curse through Harry's heart. God, he would have done ANYTHING to save Cedric's life. He would have even jumped in front of him and taken the curse for him, if he could. God, he was such a failure. He couldn't even yell at Cedric to get out of the way, for he'd been lying on the ground, his hand over his burning scar. He hadn't even seen Cedric fall; all he'd heard was the screamed "Avada Kedavra!" followed by the sound of something heavy collapsing beside him. When he'd opened his eyes, it was already too late. Cedric's life had already been snuffed out, and his sightless eyes and terrified, vulnerable face once again permeated Harry's mind. Nothing had cried out for help more in that moment than that face, and when it mattered most, Harry couldn't help him.

At that moment, he felt a hand on each of his shoulders. Looking up, he saw Ron sit down to his left, and Hermione sit down to his right. Both sets of eyes were filled with concern. No words were said as the three gazed out into the moonlit night. The stars were still twinkling, and the night still looked the complete opposite of the turmoil raging within Harry's mind. After a few more silent minutes passed, Harry finally managed to look up and into his two best friends' faces, and the moment he did, the fragile hold he'd had on his emotions finally shattered. For at the exact moment he looked at them, a horrible image filled his mind. Instead of seeing their eyes, eyes that were full of concern, friendship, and love, he saw two faces with horror-stricken looks on them, their eyes sightless and unseeing. And he knew with certainty that that was exactly what was going to happen to them if he stayed friends with them. If Cedric had been killed in front of him and they'd barely even spoken to each other, what the hell would happen to the two people in his life who had given him his happiest moments, made him feel alive and worthwhile when he'd sworn to himself for years that he was just a freak? There was no way that Voldemort would let them off with a simple Avada Kedavra. No, he'd brutally torture them, and Harry would be helpless to stop it, just like he hadn't been able to save Cedric.

And it was then that the dam that he'd been holding inside him since the night of the third task broke. Tears streamed down his face, and he made to stand up, made to get as far away from them as he possibly could. He could not, would not, be the cause of their deaths. No matter what he had to do to save their lives ... even if he had to pretend to hate them with all his heart ... he'd do it if it meant Voldemort wouldn't touch them.

But Ron and Hermione shared a silent glance, for they knew their friend way too well and could tell immediately what he was thinking. There were still no words spoken between them, but their hands tightened on his shoulders, preventing him from standing up. He looked at them again, pleading with them to understand, loud, harsh sobs ripping from his anguished soul, but still, they wouldn't let him go. With everything he had, he fought them - I won't let you die! he communicated to them silently, but still they held him firm.

And then, Hermione put her arms around him, tears now falling down her own face. Ron, following her lead, joined in the fierce embrace, and now there was nothing Harry could do to break free from them. Hermione began to rub circles on Harry's back, and the firm arm Ron had around him told him more than words could ever say. You can fight us Harry, but we're not letting you go, they said silently, and then, all the fight drained out of Harry. Finally, he just let himself be held and comforted as he sobbed against them.

After a few minutes, Harry's sobs subsided, and his two best friends gently let him go. But none of them moved from the spot in which they sat. As they gazed at each other and at the night around them, Harry knew that things would never be the same again. But that tender, warm embrace Ron and Hermione had given him, the silent communication ... it meant more to Harry than any words could have. Those simple gestures were Ron and Hermione's promise to Harry, a promise under starlight, that no matter what happened, they'd always be with him ... and they weren't leaving.

And finally, for the first time in an entire week, Harry felt truly whole.


End file.
